


Stiles Hates Everyone and It's Awesome

by AnAngryRat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Angst, Derek Hates Everyone, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gen, Hipster Stiles, M/M, Stiles Hates Everyone, it's just fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAngryRat/pseuds/AnAngryRat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes back home from college after his father has a heart attack. He only get's there to have his dad tell him to get a job. Oh, joy what could possibly happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is a five plus one and like an intro to what's going on. Then the rest is just me stress writing. I support none of the attitudes and behaviors here. NONE. Stiles is fucking awful, not gonna lie. I also threw in every trope and cliche in the book. It's mostly Stilinski feels. Also sort of based off of this fic http://captain-snark.tumblr.com/post/99410258848/imma-need-sterek-au-fic-where-stiles-gets-fired

Stiles himself may not be aware of it but his friends saw it. Mostly they recognized that they were what he deemed somewhat worthy individuals. There was no doubt about how he just had a general dislike of the human populace. The only person who did not recognize the inability to create some semblance of empathy was his friend Scott. Scott thought the best of everybody while Stiles thought the worst. Together they were a balancing act. Stiles to this day still thinks that the only reason Malia dated him through senior year of high school was because Scott was there to keep the misanthropy at bay. Not that it worked for long.

            It was agreed among his few friends three to be exact, Allison and Isaac no longer talk to him and Kira was just too fucking happy to take the never ending barrage of sarcasm, that the bitterness didn’t come until he made it to college. Stiles had always been the smart kid. He was salutatorian of his graduating class; he had a 4.5 GPA but ran no after school clubs while the valedictorian ran three. He loved research and reading and loved English and history while he played in the mathematics and sciences. He was smart. Or so he liked to believe. When he reached college it was a game changer. He was suddenly surrounded by arrogant minded individuals who seduced teachers and got A’s while he wrote entire poetry essays on the essences of tone and tense and came away with C’s. Stiles would write out long abrasive math equations loving every moment of the difficult task the way his mind would play with the simple fluidity of numbers, and the professor would tell him he solved it the wrong way because he went to the hundredth power instead of the tenth. Stiles became worn away. He was no longer the smartest. He had no ability greater than the average man. He suddenly recognized that he held no power that the world could use. What was he supposed to do then?

            The answer came in his junior year when he took an American History class that focused mostly on the contradicting politics of Alexander Hamiliton and Thomas Jefferson. It was when he met his calling. At the front of the lecture room sat the meanest, bitterest, most sarcastic man to have ever graced Stiles with his presence. Stiles in that moment felt true love. He fell in love with the fifty year old, twice divorced professor with sharp gray eyes and a large potbelly. That was his calling. He needed to be that man. At a ripe age of twenty-one Stile realized he was going to become a bitter old college professor. It was his destiny to help the government trick poor unsuspecting teenagers out of fucktons of money in the hopes of inspiring them to also become old embittered college professors.

            When he went home that summer after the greatest class he’d ever had the chance to ever marginally pass his friends, mostly Lydia because Erica and Scott were too kind to notice these things, noticed that he was bitter and happier than ever. Lydia who was fine with whatever endeavors he went on ignored the new pep in favor of taking him out to get drunk more. It was to no one’s surprise that he slept with more people in that one summer than his entire life. Even after that summer he never made the same numbers because after that he dedicated himself to getting a PhD in American Literature, much to his father’s horror. When people asked about his life goals he often laughed maniacally in their face. Who needed life goals when you were going to spend it fucking over the generation after you just like all generations before? Stiles was going to become an embittered pissed off absolutely batshit crazy English professor. It was the greatest thing ever, he told himself.

            He was three semesters into his teaching accreditation when he got the call. The call he never wanted but always suspected.

            “Mr. Stilinski, your fathers in the hospital he’s had a heart attack.”

            Stiles’ entire life stopped after that. He doesn’t just mean the fact that no sooner had he made plans to head back to Beacon Hills and put his entire life on hold to help his father that he had the largest panic attack he’s ever gotten. It just stopped. He moved back to Beacon Hills. Moved back in with his dad, to help move around the house until he got better. Moved back to living next door to Scott who never moved away in the first place. Everything stopped.  

            “You should get a job,” the Sheriff said one day after a month of Stiles’ return back. Stiles’ pen that he’d been using to mark up his favorite copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ fell out of his mouth.

            “What?”

            “Get a job. It’ll give you something to do while you’re here. Cause right now kiddo’ you’re bored,” his dad said sternly over his glasses. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

            “I have a jo—”

            “You’re no longer at Boston so no, you don’t have a job.”

            “Fine,” Stiles said sharply his nose wrinkling getting ready for a fight, “I’ll get a job if you get a hobby.”

            The Sheriff scoffed.

            “I have a hob--”

            “Looking over old case files doesn’t count, pops,” Stiles said patronizingly. The Sheriff mirrored his sons spiteful expression over the table covered in police reports.

            “Fine. Mrs. Bellingham has a bridge night. I might as well learn the game and join her.”

            “Okay then. I know Pet Smart is hiring and I _was_ getting bored anyway.”

            The Stilinski men nodded their heads in acknowledgement of being bested by each other before returning back to their activities.

*

            Stiles’ time at Pet Smart was very limited.

“What’s your dog,” Stiles said bluntly on his first day while ringing up the pet owner. He was doing his best not to be bored out of his mind and murder everyone in the store.

            “Pomeranian,” the lady replied scratching her dogs chin. Stiles snorted taking her card and ringing her up.

            “Oh, one of those little shits. Swear to god, my neighbor’s ate all my lacrosse supplies I left out on the porch,” he handed back her card loaded up her cart and watched with high amusement as her scandalized face marched out of the store.

            Fifteen minutes later he was approached at his cash register by a large woman. She didn’t wait for him to set down his book when she asked him a question.

            “Do you know what’s the best dog food for a diabetic shiatsu?”

            “No fucking idea. Go ask Martinez on register seven,” Stiles answered picking up his book.

            Three days later he got a check and a pink slip.

            Three days after that and his dad’s failed attempts at bridge they came to another conclusion.

            “I’ve got a friend who likes fishing,” his dad said arms crossed. Stiles saw the competition for what it was.

            “Hot Topic’s hiring.”

            They nodded and shook on it before returning to the missing persons file and Vonnegut.

*

            “I like 1984 too,” said a gangly awkward teenager with too much mascara. Stiles eyed her while ringing her up.

            “The year or the dystopian novel that parallel’s today politics from a media stand point,” Stiles asked in what he considered a polite tone. Even if he had an interest in vagina’s she still probably wouldn’t ever make it on his radar.

            “Um…the book. I had to read it for English last year,” she said. Stiles handed her the bag.

            “That’s nice. I’m sure your teacher made you read _Animal House_ too,” Stiles said thick with sarcasm.

            “ _Animal House_ ,” she asked her voice cracking at the end confused.

            “Get out! I don’t associate with communist,” Stiles said with an exaggerated hiss at the end. The girl flushed red and Stiles thought for one horrendous moment she would cry. He can’t handle crying. At all. Lucky for him she ran out of the store before it reached that state. He picked up his book and waited for the next customer to come to him.

            He lasted two weeks before he was fired from that one with a check. It took less than that to realize that his dad quit fishing after the first trip, though it was a day before he was finally fired so it wasn’t like the victory lasted long.

            The Stilinski men stared at each other with hard frowns the night after Stiles got fired. Once was an instance, twice was a coincidence and neither of them wanted a pattern.

            “There’s a gardening class taught on Wednesday’s,” the Sheriff said his voice hinting at a touch of desperation. Stiles on the other hand did not care whether or not he got a job but he didn’t want to let his dad down, the only man he would attempt to do anything for.

            “Ross’ is hiring.”

            There was a handshake of acknowledgement before they returned to their duties.

*

            Stiles had just figured how to turn off his cynical side just long enough to turn into the zombie that retail stores feed off of when the lady with the Pomeranian comes up with the dog in her purse. She’s also buying a full body bright green track suit. Stiles burst out laughing. He laughed hysterically while checking her out.

            “Oh my god. H-how’d you even get him in the store,” he gasped wheezing handing her, her bags.

            “Your manager will hear about this,” she snapped.

            “Fuck you too, madam,” Stiles said with a salute. Fifteen minutes later he got a text from Lydia. He stopped ringing a lady up for a moment to check it.

            Lyds to the Bibs: Why is my mother calling me about a terrible clerk that goes by the name Stilinski?

            Stiles giggled.

            Me: BRIGHT GREEN TRACK—

            “Excuse me can you please hurry—” Stiles held out a finger and finished his text.

            SUIT LYDIA.

            He put his phone back in his pocket and quickly finished up the lady before he got another text.

            Lyds to the Bibs: Oh, God. Stiles you can’t be around the average consumers. You’ll eat them alive.

            Me: Psh. If Scott can handle me anyone can.

            There’s a grunt from behind. Stiles turned to see a large man with a lot of women’s clothing. He shrugged rang him up.

            “Make sure you use the magenta lipstick it’ll complement your heels,” Stiles suggested politely handing him his bags. The man’s eye twitched and growled before leaving the store.

            Lyds to the Bibs: May god have mercy on their souls.

            Stiles was fired later that day. Stiles’ father gave up the day after that. They were once again at a stalemate.

            They sat across the table with each other looking with equal expressions of frustration. The Sheriff absently rubbed a hand against his chest where his peacemaker was. Stiles forced himself not to follow the movement. His father couldn’t return to work for another two months and not to active duty until four months after that. He’d prefer if his dad would just settle with retirement and leave it at that, but it wasn’t going to happen.

            “Mr. Jefferson offered to go golfing with me,” the Sheriff said. It was obvious to both of them it just wasn’t going to last.

            “Seven Elven has picked me up as a night time worker,” Stiles replied running a hand through his hair. Sheriff’s face twisted with dissatisfaction.

            “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. Stiles shrugged and picked up his book. They’ll see.

*

            “Give me the money,” said the sleazy white guy in a beanie mask with a gun pointed at Stiles’ head. His colleague Gena was huddled behind the counter shaking and unseen by the ‘robber.’ Stiles rolled his eyes.

            “What you think this is funny you fucking fag,” the man said his voice uneven as he pressed the gun closer to Stile’s temple. Stiles sighed grabbed the gun pushed it away from his head bringing the man towards him and smashed his elbow into the man’s windpipe. He twisted the gun out of the guy’s hand letting it fall to the floor next to Gena then slammed his face against the counter top knocking him unconscious. Stiles released his grip and let the man slip to the floor.

            “This faggot has combat training,” Stiles spat.

            He pulled out his phone and called nine-one-one and gave the operator a long winded explanation of what happened. Gena was still on the ground with her hands over her ears. Stiles dropped down by her and took off his smock. He handed it to her. She gripped it tight and her face slackened with confusion.

            “I quit.”

            The police came in five minutes later. Five days later he had a ridiculously large check for someone who had only been working for the store for less than a week and was once again sitting across from his father both of them aggressively taping the table. Their dinner of lemon chicken pushed to the side and the wide open space set in between them representing their failures.

            “I’m proud of how you handled that situation,” the Sheriff said.

            “Thanks,” Stiles said shortly. Yes, he had been trained. Yes, it was the most cool he’d ever been in his entire life. No, he was not really handling the possible moment of imminent death well. He was hiding from it like a true Stilinski man. He could say that he and his father were on the same level of denial at the moment. You know, that father son connection they had always wanted.

            “I’m going hiking with Lisa from the department,” his dad said abruptly changing subject.

            “I’ve got a job at Chuck-E-Cheese,” Stiles replied. The Sheriff nodded.

            “I give you a day,” he said hands splayed out.

            “If I make it a week, I can be jobless until I return to Boston,” Stiles bargained.

            “Deal.” They shook on it.

*

            He made it six days.

            “Hey, I’m looking for my son,” a potbellied man asked. Stiles chewed on his terrible piece of pizza that he was eating for his break.

            “Sir, it’s my break and I honestly could not give less of a shit about the where your snotty, sniveling child is.”

            His father made it one hour into the four hour hiking trip before calling it off.

            That Sunday Stiles had his head in his arms and his dad was rubbing his face across from him.

            “Last one, before we return back to our frankly unhealthy habits,” the Sheriff said. Stiles shook his head in agreement without lifting it from his arms.

            “Melissa is giving a healthy cooking class at the community center next weekend, she said if I liked it a lot she would continue to give me lessons,” the Sheriff explained.

            “I wondered what she’d give you if you do well,” Stiles responded lifting his head to give his father an eyebrow wiggle. The Sheriff flushed before gesturing with his entire body in a very Stiles-esque gesture for Stiles to go.

            “There’s a bookstore slash art gallery called Boredom Bookstore and Gallery that’s looking for someone to hire.”

            “Sounds like your kind of place.”

            “Sounds like your kind of woman—” His dad chucked a dish rag at his face.

*

            Stiles walked into the large open aired store with the expectation of being kicked out immediately. This place was way too nice for plaid and thick rimmed glasses. There was art circling around the upper walls with unlabeled bookshelves filling up every other space beside it and a large spiraling staircase in the center. It was large and classy, everything Stiles wasn’t. He made it to the front counter by some miracle of exploration because it was hidden between two parallel lines of bookshelves and in the direct center of the entire room.

 The man behind the counter made him breathless in one look and on the floor with in the next blink of an eye. There were piles of books between the bookshelves, it appeared. Stiles sighed looking over the stack he just pushed over. Maybe it wasn’t classy and instead just hated whoever came in with a passion. The kind of passion Stiles could get behind.

            Stiles pulled himself up and staggered towards the counter.

            “Hi, I’d like to apply,” he told the sex god. The man was highly amused by Stiles’ show of great acrobatics. He smirked and wrote something down on a piece of paper.

Uhg…Stiles wanted to pull off that scruff as well too. God, this man. Stiles watched the muscles in his arm move as he pushed himself up from the chair.

            “You’re hired. Starting now,” the guy said then disappeared up the staircase. Stiles stared blankly at the spot he just vacated.

            “What,” he said aloud. There was some clattering before the guy came down with a stack of papers and a key ring.

            “Fill this out. We close at ten be here at eight tomorrow. When you need to leave, tell me so I can take over. Any questions,” he said shoving the stack into his hands.

            “Seriously.”

            “Yes. Get rid of the sign,” he said before stomping back up the staircase.

            “Hey, douchebaguette what’s your name,” Stiles called up. He wasn’t exactly angry more amused, the man was adorably blunt.

            “Derek,” someone grumbled before the sounds of Death Cab for Cutie started drifting from the stairs.

            “Awesome,” Stiles mumbled before hopping over the counter and grabbing the pen _Derek_ had been using to write with. When finished Stiles pocketed the keys and looked over the sketch of a humming bird with a small gasp. It was beautiful and made up Celtic symbols and crosses. Stiles pocketed it.

            He looked around the empty store before grabbing a romance book slouching back into his seat and reading to his heart’s content.

*

            The Sheriff was watching Pretty Little Liars when Stiles walked in.

            “How’d it go?”

            “The boss is hot, and I was hire on the spot,” Stile responded and was not jumping up and down happily because of the stupid rhyme.

            “I give you a month,” the Sheriff responded.

            “Fifty for two months,” Stiles bargained making his way up stairs.

            “It’s a deal,” the Sheriff hollered making Stiles cackle.

*

            Stiles’ second day at work he had five customers who didn’t even attempt to talk to him much to his pleasure.  He spent the entire day reading and working the cash register. It was blissful. It wasn’t until it was ten o’clock that he realized he needed to leave. He got the store ready for lock up before spending fifteen minutes at the bottom of the staircase psyching himself up for talking to his boss.

            To his relief the boss man himself came down before he even made a step.

            “Oh, good you haven’t left yet,” he said dazedly. He looked haggard with charcoal smeared across his face and arms. It was almost soaked into his tank top too. Stiles wanted to slowly wipe it off rubbing his hands over every inch of toned body.

            “Yeah, what’s the problem,” Stiles asked almost wincing at how sarcastic he sounded. It was his fall back when he was nervous.

            “Nothing. You didn’t come up, and I didn’t know if you knew you could,” Derek said rubbing under his eye and just making the smudge worse. Stiles reached out with his sweater over his hand and scrubbed it off. Derek leaned back away from the touch.

            “No. I didn’t know. But I like working the floor so it never occurred for me to,” Stiles said too fast blushing. His stomach rumbled loudly and his cheeks burned even more.

            “Want to go get dinner at the diner down the street,” Derek asked surprising Stiles.

            “Yeah. I like it there because Bertha—”

            “Always remembers your order so she never asks,” Derek finished. Stiles smiled remembering.

            “Yeah, Bertha. She was like my idol when I was younger. Hated everyone and took no bullshit.”

            Stiles finished talking dreamily to find Derek staring at him with an unreadable expression.

            “What?”

            “Let’s go,” Derek said heading towards the door. Stiles shrugged and followed.

*

            Stiles had been working at the Boredom Bookstore and Gallery, for about a week when Mrs. Martin walked in. Her Pomeranian with her like always. Stiles cracked his neck and shook out his limbs prepared for the worse. This job had been good to him. He actually remembered to eat after the first day and coincidentally he only seen Derek when he has to ask him to take over so Stiles can leave to eat. He still hasn’t been all the way up stairs. He makes it half way up then Derek is heading down telling him he can leave. The man has like crazy good hearing to hear him even with his music on at full blast. The job though was good. Great even since on a daily bases he got to see a sex god in all his scantily clad glory.

            “You again,” she said pointedly. Stiles really felt the passion he did.

            “’Sup,” Stiles said just to watch her squirm. She did not disappoint, the show only lasted a moment before she stood up straighter and said.

            “I would like to speak with the manager about the state in which I found one of his books. I’d also like to buy that painting of the wolf over there,” she pointed to what Stiles had started calling grumpy woof. The beast was done in pastels on a black canvas, its hulking figure snarling over its shoulder bright red eyes staring into your soul and telling you to “fuck off.” It was his favorite right next to the series of bright watercolors that had come up over the last week. They were bright and cheerful and that made Stiles unusually chipper too.

            “How’d you find the book,” Stiles asked curious. She sniffed haughtily.

            “It had three pages torn out randomly through it,” she said taking out the book and flinging it across the table. Stiles raised an eyebrow it was the gay romance he had read two days ago. The exact same copy in fact.

            “I took out those pages for other’s reading pleasure,” he said leaning across the counter to flip through the book, “Those sex scenes weren’t anatomically correct by the way. So I thought the story would be better without them.”

            “This is outrageous!” she shouted her face an angry red. Stiles leaned back in his chair and settled in for the long haul of her rant. He nodded along and commented a few times which seemed to just rile her up even more. She was just about finished when there was some clattering from upstairs that her off. Stiles looked up prepared for the inevitable. He actually felt marginally sad this time. He liked the store. He enjoyed _most_ of the customers, because none of them felt like discussing anything. He loved his ridiculously hot artist boss. He kind of actually liked working there to his surprise. There was a sharp pang of disappointment that it couldn’t have lasted longer.

            “What the fuck is going on,” Derek asked Stiles. Stiles waved his arms toward the lady with false nonchalance. Derek let out a heavy put upon sigh.

            “What can I do for you madam?” Derek said crossing his arms. Stiles sat up straighter gearing himself up.

            “This infant of a man destroyed some of your stock and still allowed it to be sold,” she started with. Derek squinted at her.

            “What?”

            “He ripped out all of the sex scenes in that book I bought.”

            Derek looked at the book then back at Stiles.

            “What?”

            “Last time I checked, I didn’t have a self-lubricating vagina,” Stiles explained. He could practically see the gears working in Derek’s head as his gaze flickered between Stiles and the book.

            “Oh.” Derek turned back to the woman to ask “So?”

            She leaned back scandalized.

            “This employee is rude, unkind, and absolutely unsanitary. I wouldn't shake his hand if he even had the decency to ask,” she listed on her fingers, her dog giving an extra squeak at being pushed closer to her breast.

            “Would you touch me with a ten and a half foot pole,” Stiles asked breaking in.

            “Why you—” she ground out like a cliché Disney villain. Stiles grinned cheekily back.

            “Get out,” Derek growled ending their staring contest. Stiles shrugged, trying to keep it together, stood up and pulled out his keys placing them on the desk. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t. 

            “God, no. Not you. Her,” Derek said pushing him back down into the seat with a firm hand.

            “ _What?_ ” she shrieked.

            “No cat’s allowed. Get out of my store,” Derek reiterated between clenched teeth.

            She gaped in disgust before turning primly around and stomping back out the door. Now it was Stiles’ time to say, “What?”

            “You’re a good worker, you like books, you like my art, you stay,” Derek said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.  He picked up the vandalized book and tucked it under his arm. “Just don’t break the merchandise anymore. No matter how badly written.”

            “Okay,” Stiles said in a daze.

            “Good,” Derek grumbled then stomped back upstairs giving Stiles and excellent view of his ass.

            Stiles found himself blushing like a virgin and had to spend the next ten minutes with his face in his hands to hide his embarrassment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott comes and the art suddenly becomes sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boyd's in this chapter. It's really short. I didn't edit it much.

*

            “How’s the job,” the Sheriff asked dishing up some of his own home cooked soy tacos. Stiles took a bite surprised by how good it tasted. He expected monstrosities, okay. His father was a terrible cook and no one could tell him otherwise.

            “Alright, boss seems to like me,” Stiles said swallowing. The Sheriff gave him a dry look.

            “What,” Stiles said jerking his arms out like he’s sixteen instead of twenty-six.

            “Son, I love you. Scott loves you for some reason. Lydia tolerates you. Erica is just psychotic. No one _really_ likes you.”

            “Thank you, I’m aware of that. But for some reason Derek, likes me.”

            His dad hmm’s and haw’s over the information.

            “How’s Melissa doing, you seemed to have liked her class,” Stiles asked distracting from the topic. His father took the bait and much to Stiles’ horror talked about her hair being in a ponytail instead of down for a half an hour.

*

            “Wow, this is a really nice place,” Scott said laying down on the counter. Stiles playfully kicked him off watching with sadistic glee as he flailed on to the floor. Stiles had been working at Boredom Bookstore and Gallery for over a month much to his pleasure. It was the steadiest job he’s kept besides when he was a librarian at Boston University. He still had eight months left of his yearlong break but was on the edge of going back early for the fall semester. His dad seemed to be doing better and he was feeling better too despite with his near death experience. Maybe it was time to go back instead of waiting around in Beacon Hills where the people hated him and his memories of mom lay.

            “Shouldn’t you be saving kittens or something,” Stiles replied opening up one of the containers of lo mein and stuffing a forkful into his face. Scott got up to lean over the counter for his own box of Chinese food.

            “It’s my day off Isaac’s covering for me,” Scott said mouth full. Stiles picked at his food.

            “That’s nice. How’s Kira? Was Japan all you wanted it to be,” Stiles asked more out of politeness than anything else. He wasn’t really in the mood to hear Scott wax poetic about his wonderful beautiful wife and the great country that gave Stiles Hayo Miazaki. In fact he didn’t want to talk to Scott at all which was a first in Stilinski history. The McCall’s just had that way about them that made the average man weep great sweeping tears of sorrow and run to tell them their very deepest darkest secrets. You couldn’t say no to a McCall.

            “It was great man! Japan is beautiful and they always tried to practice their English and Spanish on me it was epic. Kira’s fine and she also said she regretted not thanking you for showing up to the wedding even though your dad was in the hospital and stuff,” Scott rushed his voice quieting at the end. Stiles swallowed and he could swear he smelled disinfectant and the low humming beep of machines.

            “Yeah, it’s fine it was good to get away for a bit.” He doesn’t remember his best man speech or the entire day for that matter, all he had to remind him it happened was the suit still tucked nicely in his childhood closet. “When’s vacation starting for Lydia and Erica?”

            “Lydia’s back in a week. Erica’s coming with her.”

            “Ah, so they finally broke and moved in together,” Stiles said filling in the gaps from what Lydia willingly tells him and what she ends up gushing to Scott when she’s sad and drunk.

            “Yup, I think Erica’s trying to get Lydia into accepting a third party into their little duo.”

            “I’d like to see that,” Stiles said snickering into his carton.

            “What? Why,” Scott asked bless his little heart.

            “Those two are so possessive the poor sucker they find would have to be the most blank slated brick wall for them to climb and conquer if it were to last longer than a fleeting night in bed.”

            Scott tilted his head and scrunched up his eyebrows. Stiles almost sighed. Adorable. Absolutely adorable. They ate in peace for a few moments enjoying each other’s company.

            “Oh,” Scott said throwing his empty box into the trash can, “Allison and Isaac’s wedding is next week. They’re having it in Vegas. Me and Kira are going down a few days early to enjoy the place.”

            “Send me pictures. Make sure you spill at least one glass of wine on Mrs. Argent. That bitch needs some payback for that B- she gave my essay on Romeo and Juliet,” Stiles grumbled back. Allison and Isaac haven’t talked to him since he told them to break up because it would never last after they moved in. He was also sick of them complaining about each other to him.

            “I can’t do that she’d kill me!” Scott was silent for a moment. “Allison told me she was pregnant. That’s why it was so rushed. They want to slip it under her parents so they don’t murder Isaac,” Scott said looking extremely uncomfortable. Stiles leaned over and hugged him to make him stop shifting. He was also feeling gleeful because, yeah they aren’t going to last especially given the conditions of their wedding.

            “I missed you,” Scott said misinterpreting the hug. Stiles smiled. Scott always thought the best it was why he loved him.

            “Missed you too Scotty,” he said squeezing back and enjoying the warmth. Stiles didn’t realize how much he needed a McCall hug until he found himself enduring the wrath of a counter edge into his abdomen for a solid minute just for the action.

            “Oh, sorry,” Derek said, breaking the moment. He was halfway down the stairs and immediately turned tail and was stomping back up before Stiles could say anything.

            “Whoa. He’s exactly your type,” Scott said after the Smith’s started playing from upstairs.

            “I know, I think I would be in love if our conversations lasted longer than three sentences,” Stiles said wistfully. He has the beginnings of a full blown crush and obsession with the elusive Derek. He didn’t even know his last name.

            “You said he took you out to dinner,” Scott said. He was packing up. Stiles felt a pang of sadness knowing that he probably wouldn’t see Scott for a couple of weeks with the wedding and both their work schedules.

            “He did. Didn’t say a goddamn thing during my entire Shakespeare rant,” Stiles said hopping over the counter to lead Scott out.

            “Oh.” Scott’s face fell. Stiles gave him a quick hug.

            “It’s fine. Go save some kitties.”

*

            The paintings around the store were replaced by black, angry and sad depictions of slaughtered animals. They also had an unusually low number of customers purchasing the art.

*

            Stiles was flipping through Netflix listening as the Sheriff rustled behind him through the house trying to be sneaky. Stiles was waiting to pounce. It was when he heard the jingle of the key rack that he suppressed his smile and turned.

            “Going somewhere, Pop’s?”

            The Sheriff appeared nonchalant in his nice button up shirt and his favorite jacket. Stiles knew that outfit. It was his date outfit.

            “Going out to the store,” his dad said without looking up or skipping step towards the door. Stiles grinned maliciously and hopped over the top of the couch.

            “Mind if I come with,” he said loping over to the older man. The Sheriff pinched his nose and sighed like the weight of the world was on him.

            “If I tell you will you not dig for information,” he said.

            “That depends are you going to be back tonight?”

            “No. I’m going on a date with Melissa.”

            Stiles grinned wider.

            “I won’t ask for more, but I do get to say I told you so.”

            His dad shook his head and opened the door.

            “Spawn,” he grumbled before slamming it in Stile’s face. Stiles cackled maniacally.

*

            Stiles walked into work one day and found a large handsomely intimidating man behind the counter.

            “Oh,” Stiles said with surprise.

            “You hear to buy something,” the man asked. Stiles blinked hopped over the counter and started walking up the stairs. The man stopped him before he even reached the banister.

            “What the fuck are you doing,” he asked. He was probably the most calmly angry man Stiles had ever met.

            “I work here. I’m just going to see the boss man” Stiles answered jerking his arm out of the other man’s grip. He then sped up the steps and knocked on the door. He felt betrayed for some reason. He was also furious. It was like he was being replaced by a much hotter guy and that just wasn’t fair.

            The door opened to reveal a large scowl and a large open aired really nice apartment.

            “Oh my god why haven’t I been here before,” Stiles murmured forgetting his anger. He brushed past Derek towards the inside. It was covered in art supplies with a small kitchen area in one corner and a bed in another. There was a hallway next to the bed that Stiles had to physically stop himself from exploring instead looking upon all the canvases and sketchbooks. There were scraps of paper everywhere, and so many drawings of a puckish fox Stiles couldn’t even count.

            Stiles lightly touched a bright colorful painting of a small meadow and let his fingers linger over the other art as he made his way towards the bed investigating almost all the scraps of paper that were visible.

            “Holy shit,” he whispered when he saw a large charcoal sketch of the spiral staircase. There was a cough behind him distracting him from his exploration. He turned to the noise.

            “Was there something you wanted,” Derek asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It was the most motion Stiles had ever seen from the man.

            “Yeah,” Stiles said feeling the anger rush back, “Why’d you hire someone without telling me?”

            “You do realize you work thirteen hours a day six days a week,” Derek said crossing his arms.

            “Yeah, so?” Stiles spent the last week reorganizing the entire store and putting accurate prices on all the books. The menial tasks appeased his minor OCD and made him feel accomplished at the end. There was literally nothing he hated about having an eighty hour work week.

            “Doesn’t your boyfriend mind,” Derek asked getting red around his ears. What?

            “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

            “Oh.” Derek said before surprising Stiles and flushing bright red up to his adorable little ears, “Who was that guy the other day?”

            “Scott? He’s my best friend from kindergarten. He’s actually away at a wedding this week,” Stiles said slumping down on to the bed. “Well, what am I going to do with my day now that I can’t work?”

            Stiles paused and actually thought about those words. He was actually disappointed not being at work. That was something that had never happened to him ever. He never felt like he wanted to be at school. College was only fun for like three classes but the rest were painful to go to. Why would work be any better? Stiles was starting to believe that Boredom Bookstore and Gallery might be on a different dimension in which work is…fun.

            “Um…I could make you breakfast and we could watch Netflix,” Derek said breaking Stiles out from his spiral of thoughts. He grinned.

            “Yeah. That sounds like fun,” Stiles answered getting up, “Ever watch Re-animator?”

            The fox paintings never ended up on the walls of the book store and the slaughtered animals were replaced by purple flowers.

*

            Stiles got home an hour early and heard a series of unholy noises from his father’s bedroom and walked right out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets taken to a club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEX. I haven't really written it before so um... just tell me if it makes you squeamishly uncomfortable. Also I didn't edit this like I usually do. Sorry.

 

            They sat around the booth sizing each other up in a way they hadn’t been able to do at the airport. The airport was all about remembering that Stiles liked and enjoyed Erica and Lydia’s company in the softer times the hours after that were spent looking at every detail they changed to see if they were doing as well as they said or even as Scott said because Scott knew everything because Scott was a better person then any of the people at the table.

            “I like your new haircut,” Stiles said after sucking a long slurp from his milkshake. Erica smiled predatorily.

            “I like the new shirt. The Lumineer’s though, not your band.”

            “Yeah, I bought it on sale with the money I won from me and dad’s bet,” Stiles deflected tugging on his shirt as if he didn’t realize it wasn’t on. He knew this game well enough to make them see what they want to see.

            “Well, you should do something about those bags under your eyes. It’s not good for your complexion,” Lydia pointed out licking the cherry off a stem. Erica’s eyes followed the movement and Stiles felt incredibly uncomfortable.

            “My complexion as nothing to do with anything,” Stiles said quickly in an attempt to distract Erica. There can be girlfriend make-outs at parties, in homes, in malls, while shopping, but Beatrice’s Diner is sacred and no make-outs are going to happen here on Stiles’ time.

            “Where’s Scott then,” Erica asked, eyes narrowing in on him with lazer like precision. This means she doesn’t catch Lydia licking the whip cream off her forefinger, much to Stiles’ appreciation.

            “He’s at Allison and Isaac’s wedding,” Stiles said with varied amounts of bitterness. He wouldn’t have gone but they could have given him a letter. Lydia kicked him under the table.

            “You hate them. Stop pouting. Me an Erica couldn’t make it for obvious reasons,” she explained.

            “Ah, well, good for you,” Stiles muttered. Allison’s parents were conservative monsters. Or at least her mother was. Allison’s best friend is a lesbian (according to her bisexuality doesn’t exist) may god purge her soul of her sin to love another woman and yada, yada, yada.

            “So, what’s this I hear about a new job,” Erica distracted before leaning over and taking a large swipe of milkshake onto her finger. Stiles glared at her as she smirked around her finger.

            “I work at a bookstore where the boss hates people more than I do. He recently hired someone so silent that even I can’t even get him to crack.” Stiles gestured the entire time with his spoon spilling gooey bits of chocolate milkshake everywhere.

            “Oh a bookstore,” Lydia purred, “I know where we are going after this.”

            Stiles groaned.

            The walk from Beatrice’s Diner to Boredom Bookstore and Gallery was a nice change of pace as the sun sunk behind the hills. Erica practically kicked down the door to make a dramatic entrance and stalked into the near silent bookshop her stiletto’s clacking against the concrete of the uncarpeted ground. Stiles and Lydia mingled behind her like watch dogs.

            “Wow, Stilinski, this place is too nice for you,” she said wandering in and out of isles. Stiles nodded heading towards the desk more out of habit than urgency Lydia on his trail. He found Derek hunched over a sketchpad and Boyd occasionally glancing over his shoulder with a smirk.

            “How are my favorite coworkers feeling today,” Stiles said sliding up along the counter and smiling like he wasn’t jealous of Boyd. Derek never came down to keep him company while he was working. Ever. He’ll admit it’s a little lonely working alone amongst the books and some company to talk to would be nice but Derek only comes down to chat when he needs to be let off for lunch and dinner break. They also hadn’t really hung out since their Netflix splurge a few days ago.

            Derek jumped at his voice ripped out the page he was working on tore it up and threw it in the trash can. Boyd’s shoulders shook in what Stiles is going to assume is laughter.

            “Apparently angry,” Stiles said stiltedly at the show of dramatics. Boyd’s perfect posture curved inward and the shaking in his shoulders became more exaggerated.  Lydia came up closer and bumped shoulders with him.

            “Gonna introduce me to your coworkers,” she asked eyeing the situation critically. Erica came up and draped herself over Lydia’s shoulder.

            “Yeah, Stilinski,” she purred eyeing Boyd like a piece of meat. Stiles shifted away from them uncomfortably.

            “Boyd, Derek. Erica, Lydia.” Stiles introduced by pointing at the names of people. Erica stuck a hand in Boyd’s direction. Lydia eyed it but crossed her arms staring at Derek intently. Stiles had the urge to just jam himself between the two. If Lydia wanted something nothing could get in her way…Except Stiles. They are still speaking because she respected him as the only person to have ever bested her even if it was by small chance and he respected her as the only person who could make him nearly piss himself in terror with a single look. He’s been held at gun point and nothing scared him more than a Lydia glare.

            Boyd shook Erica’s hand only to be pulled close and personal. Her eyes lit up on fire when she closely inspected her new victim. Stiles edged even farther away.

            “How about we go clubbing and get to know one another better,” Lydia suggested walking her fingers across the counter.

            “No.” Stiles and Derek said at the same time. Erica turned with a wolfish grin.

            “Who said your opinion mattered?”

            “I’d like to go,” Boyd said coolly dragging his hand away from Erica’s grip and hopping over the table.

“Oh for fucks sakes,” Stiles said rubbing his temples. The headache wasn’t there yet but if he ended up at a club it might be.

“We can stay here and watch the store,” Derek offered quietly as if they would listen to reasonable ness. Stiles watched at the group stop eyeing each other trying to get a feel for how this dynamic was going to work and turn slowly towards them. Boyd raised an eyebrow, Erica snickered, and Lydia shook her head tsking them.

            “Nope, you’re locking up early, pretty boy. Put on your partying pants,” she said crossing her arms and making it clear there were no arguments to be made. Derek paled and Stiles patted his shoulders.

*

            “This is hell,” Derek grumbled knocking back some whiskey and glaring at the crowd of people.

            “I fucking hate clubs. If I’m not here to fuck what’s the point,” Stiles agreed over the sounds of the music. They hadn’t left their table since they got there an hour ago watching over everyone else’s stuff

            “To stare at hot sweaty horny people and watch them fail at attracting a potential mate,” Derek said dryly. Stiles cackled.

            “That would require me to care enough about humanity to want to see people procreate. Also,” Stiles added, “No one here is going to be making babies just spreading STD’s like they’re going out of business.”

            Derek snickered. They were quiet watching the mass of bodies jump and grind against each other. Stiles nursed his beer and pulled out his phone to read Anna Karenina off his kindle app.

            “Want to leave,” Derek asked. Stiles jerked his head up.

            “Naw, if we leave Lydia will castrate us for letting her purse get stolen,” Stiles answered with a long pull of his drink. Derek’s forehead folded and he glared down at his glass. It suddenly clicked what Derek was offering. He smiled and rubbed his foot along Derek’s thigh.

            “When they tire out we can leave together if you want?”

            Derek’s foot lightly ran up his thigh hovering around his crotch.

            “I’d like that,” Derek said grinning.

*

            “You know I thought sex with you would be a lot more vigorous,” Stiles said right before Derek slipped in a third finger and he lost all train of thought. He actually had the audacity to stop licking Stiles thigh to raise an unimpressed eyebrow. Stiles cuffed his head lightly before breaking into a large moan as Derek hit his prostrate with a fucking ridiculous amount of precision.

            “I thought you would be louder,” Derek commented before implementing a large hickey on his hipbone.

            “Dude,” Stiles panted, “Don’t give me a challenge. It’s not going to end well for either of us.”

            Derek chuckled and wiggled his fingers making Stiles gasp and grab the sheets.

            “We done treating me for the beejay against the front door or are we gonna get this show in the road,” Stiles said pumping his cock teasingly. Derek rolled his eyes and moved up Stiles body reaching for the condom. Stiles reached it first ripping it open with his teeth and an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.

            “Practice that a lot,” Derek asked watching Stiles slip on the condom and lube him up. Stiles shrugged and leaned back down spreading his legs further apart lifting his hips back onto Derek’s lap.

            “When you’re a bored nineteen year old virgin there are a lot of things you do in your—Holy mother of fu-huck!” Derek had removed his fingers and eased inside him. When he bottomed out he trapped Stiles’ head between his arms. Stiles closed his eyes adjusting to the intrusion. He blinked dazedly and Derek dragged him in for a long kiss. Stiles slapped his ass to get him to start moving.  Derek just chuckled mouthing his way down towards his neck.

            “Jesus Derek, I’m gonna be a hundred before you start,” Stiles said grinding his hips down in frustration.

            “You talk a lot,” Derek said pushing up and starting them off to a long slow rhythm.

            “Communication is the key to great sex,” Stiles answered matching his speed and attempting to speed him up. Derek kept it slow and precise despite his efforts. “Like how I’m telling you to move faster.”

            Derek purposefully slowed down and aimed almost lazily for his prostate each time.

            “ _Fuck_! You dick,” Stiles gasped back bowing at the surprise.

            “Yes?” Derek asked his breath shallow. Oh my god, Stiles was going to have to beg. He was going to have to beg for rough sex. That was a first. Stiles brain was going five million miles an hour and the space was nearly unbearably slow and it was wrecking him. He was a twink. He knew it and he knew he was going to get a lot of rough sex, it was going to happen and he liked it. He didn’t mind because it was enjoyable. This right here though the small banter the slow intimate pace this was making _love_. It was every cliché movie it was all there. Derek wasn’t looking for a quickie with an employee he was looking for a _relationship_. With _feelings_. The funny thing was that Stiles might be okay with that. And Derek’s hand is on his dick and jerking him off with the slow tortuous thrust of love and oh…Stiles came all over himself with probably the loudest moan he’s ever had the pleasure to have.

            There were several quick thrusts then Derek was smashing their mouth together as he came. Stiles laid there come drunk and finally realized why the love making should be terrifying he was going to have to talk about the _feelings_ at some point. He turned towards Derek who had finally pulled himself off of Stiles to dispose of the condom. He had a large triskeleon tattoo that Stiles just wanted to kiss so he did. Derek turned towards him with a soft smile and kissed him for real. Stiles fell against the other man and let the worry slip away for now. But he was going to have to go back across country to school eventually.

*

            Stiles walked into the house the next afternoon with his dad lounging on the couch watching football. He had spent the entire morning at Derek’s talking about old horror movies and eating breakfast and cuddling and making out and maybe two rounds of sleepy morning sex. It was nice and blissful. Stiles didn’t mention college and Derek didn’t mention the scars across his upper chest. They were good and happy. Mostly.

            The Sheriff turned to smirk at Stiles making him flush brightly.

            “Is he someone you’ll want to introduce?”

            Yes, but it’s probably not going to last.

            “Are you finally gonna bring Mrs. McCall over for dinner,” Stiles bantered taking off his shoes and heading up the stairs.

            “Only if you bring your boyfriend,” the Sheriff said still looking at the T.V.

            “Sure you bring Melissa and Scott and Kira and I’ll bring over Derek. We’ll make a grand show. Why not even bring Lydia and Erica,” Stiles said bitterly.

            “Isn’t Derek your boss?”

            “Not anymore,” Stiles called down shutting his door so he can panic in peace. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek give their opinion and meet the family.

            It was a slow day at work which meant that Stiles had Derek down by the desk with him and was watching him sketch Erica photo realistically. It was insane.

            “Wow.” Stiles murmured when Derek pulled away long enough to give him a full view. “You only saw her like once a week ago. That’s amazing.”

            Derek flushed.

            “Thanks.”

            Stiles grinned. God Derek was adorable when he wasn’t scaring away customers. The bell in the front of the store rang informing them of an incoming customer. Neither moved.

            “You ever draw me?”

            “No,” Derek answered too quickly. Stiles let it slip because he knew he was going to kind those sketches eventually. He paused at the thought that there was an eventually with Derek. Was he going to leave and finish his degree? The answer that used to be a solid yes was starting to turn into a maybe the more time he spent with him.

            Derek leaned in and kissed him gently and chaste.

            “You okay,” he asked stroking a thumb along Stiles’ jaw.

            “Yeah, my dad invited you to dinner with in the next month or so, if you’re interested,” Stiles blurted. He hadn’t actually had any intention of introducing Derek to the Sheriff but now that it was out there he didn’t really want to take it back.

Derek’s eyes widened and he kissed Stiles again.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Maybe you could meet my sisters,” he said before a look of absolute horror crawled across his face, “Actually, no. Don’t meet my sisters. They are terrible.”

“Pff, they can’t be that bad,” Stiles said running a hand along Derek’s bicep.

“Um, I’d like to buy a couple of books and see if I could get a painting,” someone said behind the counter. Stiles groaned and pushed away from Derek.

“Dude, we were having a fucking moment you couldn’t have waited five more fucking minutes,” Stiles said turning towards the customer.

“Oh, uh, I’m—”

“What painting do you want, I’ll have my fuck bunny go get it for you,” Stiles said picking up his books and ringing him up.

“The one with the wolfs bane across the headstone,” the man mumbled. Derek was already up and getting it.

“How much, babe,” Stiles called.

“Two hundred,” Derek answered from across the store. Stiles entered the price in.

“That’s actually out of my—”

“Your total is two hundred fifteen dollars and sixteen cents. Will that be cash or credit?” Stiles held out his hand. The guy handed his card and Stiles slid it before allowing him to type in his pin. He handed it back shoving the guys bags at him. Derek handed the painting covered and ready to go just as the guy turned to leave. The man stumbled out of the store on unsteady legs. Stiles watched him go with a glower.

“Seriously, though, what’s wrong with your sisters?”

Derek hopped across the counter.

“They’re the worst thing in the planet.”

“What?”

“Optimists.”

Stiles snorted.

“Oh, god whatever shall I do.”

*

            Stiles sat in the Jeep looking up at his family home with a growing sense of impending doom.  Derek rested his hand on Stiles’ thigh rubbing it soothingly.

            “You seem unusually tense for what’s going to be a quick dinner with your family and friends,” he commented. Stiles ran a hand through his hair scrubbing it frustrated now was better than letting someone else spill the beans.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the car. Derek followed suit a crease between his brows.

“Okay, what,” Derek asked as they jogged up the steps to the door.

“Either in September or January, I’m heading back to Boston to get my professor ship in American Literature,” Stiles said. Derek’s face shut down and became stone cold as Stiles knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. He scratched his neck and picked up Derek’s hand just before Melissa opened the door and tugged him into a hug. 

“This must be the Hickey King,” Melissa said greeting Derek by shaking his hand. Stiles laughed slightly strained.

“Say’s the Hickey Queen.”

Melissa flushed and glowered before opening the door wide to let them in. Derek laid the bottle of wine on the counter never taking his hand away from Stiles’. Melissa followed them talking constantly about her work hours. Stiles and Derek nodded along until she asked, “When are you going back?”

Derek’s grip on his hand tightened.

“I was thinking in September, because dad is obviously healthy enough for vigorous activities. Isn’t that right Melissa,” Stiles said with all the nonchalance he could muster. She glowered at him and smacked the outside of his head before heading out of the kitchen to go find Scott.

No sooner than her back was turned did Derek have Stiles pinned against the counter his thick arms framing his hips.

“You know that I don’t really mind that you might leave to finish your degree soon. What I am mad about is why you were too scared to tell me,” Derek growled staring him down until he had to look down and around.

“I—”

“Wow, I only left you for a minute,” Melissa said dryly. Stiles leaned away slightly and caught sight of Scott covering his face. He frowned.

“Dude, this is nothing compared to the compromising positions I’ve found you in,” Stiles said. He let out a breath of relief when Derek pushed away from him to lean against the counter arms cross and the perpetual scowl accompanying his face. Scott lowered his arms and shrugged before closing the distance and giving him a firm hug. He then stuck out a hand to shake for Derek.

“Nice to be formally introduced,” Scott said once Derek had taken his hand.

“Yeah,” was all he grumbled out. Stiles wrapped an arm around his waist to comfort him. He relaxed in to the touch with a reluctant sigh. Derek hated people, hated meeting people, hated groups of people but most of all he hated happy people. Most of Stiles family and friends were happy people and he was tolerating them for him. Stiles was both grateful for the gesture and wallowing in endless guilt at lying by omission to Derek.    

            They listened to Scott drivel about his absolutely perfect life of saving animals trying to reach two point five kids before him and Kira are thirty. Stiles rubbed Derek’s back and smiled sincerely when Scott joked to him. Kira joined them and smiled tersely at Stiles before latching on to Derek like a leech. She practically carried him away until it was just Scott and Stiles.

            “Well he seems like a giant asshole,” Scott said suspiciously looking over his shoulder. Stiles rolled his eyes reached the fridge to get a beer. He might need to be inebriated to make it through the rest of the night.

            “I guess that’s why you like him. You have two boner settings, asshole or bitch. There’s no in between such as, I don’t know, nice,” Scott continued grabbing the beer Stiles held out for him.

            “I can do nice there was,” Stiles paused as he flipped through the people he dated longer than a week, “Malia and Jessica.”

            Scott sighed shaking his head.

            “That’s because they thought they could change you.”

            “Well, too bad they underestimated my personality.”

            “Hey, don’t be like that. I like you for you.”

            “You are bias you like everyone.”

            “I don’t like Derek, because he shouldn’t be banging his employee.”

            Stiles opened his mouth to bring up Scott’s ugly past of banging people he shouldn’t there was a crash from the living room and a string of curse words from the Sheriff.

            “Oh, good Erica and Lydia must have shown up,” Stiles said dryly moving around Scott to get to the living room. Erica was on the Sheriff’s lap and Lydia was lounging on the recliner with a possessive hand on Boyd’s shoulder where he was sitting on the floor in front of her.

            “I see you brought Boyd. Didn’t realize you guys turned into a thing,” Stiles commented shoving Erica off of his _father_ and sitting down beside him. She glared furiously from her new position on the ground Stiles ignore her to look out back where Melissa and Kira were talking Derek’s ear off. His expression never changed but he was nodding so he must of appreciated some of what they were saying.

            “Like your one to talk. You’ve been sleeping with him for what? A week? A month? I thought you said you’d only introduce a significant other to your family if you were already married,” Lydia said. Erica slumped on to her lap and flung her legs over the arm of the couch.

            “Fuck you.”

            “Language,” the Sheriff said harshly. The entire room including Boyd gave him the exact same sardonic look.

            “If you don’t want to be treated like children then don’t act like it,” he said stealing the rest of Stiles’ beer ignoring his protest and leaving the room.

            “Man Stilinski, I thought someday I’d get over the perpetual boner I have for your dad,” Erica mused, “then he does something like that and it starts all over again.”

            Lydia tilted her head in agreement. Even Boyd’s face softened thinking about it. Stiles shuddered and immediately left the room shaking himself. All the gross. That was all the gross. His dad wasn’t…no. He walked out to the back to see Kira and Melissa walking back in.

            “You found yourself a real keeper,” Kira said cheerfully skipping into the living room. Stiles stopped himself from hissing in her direction.

            “Seriously, he’s like a solid brick wall. I love him. Keep him,” Melissa said patting his shoulder and going to the kitchen to finish the casserole that they were having for dinner. He walked outside to see Derek leaning against the wall ears up to his shoulders were so tense.  Stiles wrapped himself around Derek.

            “I’m still mad,” he grumbled.

            “I know.”

            “You going to talk to me.”

            “After dinner.”

            “Okay. Your family is strange by the way.”

            “If it makes you feel better you still haven’t met the person I’m biologically related to. So you don’t have to worry about making a good impression,” Stiles said smirking.

            “I think they liked me.”

            “They love you. Maybe I can make you go to all the family get together for me. Never have to have an awkward dinner again.”

            “You’re evil.”

            “Thanks.”

            There was a knock on the door.

            “You ready to come inside and eat,” the Sheriff said. Stiles bared his teeth in a mock grin.

            “You ready to deal with _all_ of my tribe?”

            Derek took his hand and dragged him inside.

*

            Derek had the pillow tucked under his chin thinking while Stiles was curled up his head on his legs looking out the window at the night sky.

            “You’re planning on becoming a college professor on the east coast,” Derek stated to the air as if it would make more sense. Stiles had driven him back to the loft where they had angry sex on the table before making it to the bed.

            “Yeah. I thought this,” Stiles said pointing between the two of them, “wasn’t going to be more than fuck buddies when I hopped into your bed the first night.”

            “Is it just that,” Derek asked.

            “No. It’s not. It’s something more. Which I hadn’t been expecting but enjoyed the idea. Just wish it wasn’t so new and fresh, because then maybe it could work when I leave in the fall.”

            Derek sat up and cupped his cheek.

            “How long have you wanted to be a professor?”

            “Don’t know just seemed like the logical conclusion when all I had been doing for years was reading and studying.”

            “You sure you want to continue,” Derek asked.

            “I don’t know. I should at least finish my degree. Give my dad that so I’m not a total failure as a son, when I don’t have a job,” Stiles muttered.

            “You could always work for me,” Derek said, “Be part owner of the bookshop, help me sell the art online and overseas. All that good stuff.”

            “Maybe we should wait and see how long this works out before we make business deals that probably won’t hold,” Stiles offered.

            “Ye of little faith,” Derek said leaning in to kiss him.

            “Last time I trusted something not to happen, it did and my father was in a hospital for a month.”

            Derek looked at him calculating. Stiles just scraped his nails across his scruff. He loved doing it and could probably spend hours on end scratching Derek’s beard.

            “I get that. You kick your sister to get your parents attention and never see them again.”

            “Car accident?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Lost mom to cancer. Still call dad the Sheriff to most people. He just didn’t feel like dad after mom died.”

            “That sucks.”

            Stiles laughed.

            “Your life sucks.”

            Derek gave him a wry smile before kissing him into the sheets. He licked along Stiles body making him gasp.

            “You know what else sucks,” he asked dryly kissing the inside of his thigh just under his balls.

            “Oh, god you loser,” Stiles moaned for two very different reasons.

*

            “You must be Stiles,” Laura said shaking his hand. Stiles was set off by the two severe looking woman grinning at him from across the table. Derek wasn’t doing much better actually appearing twitchy and uncomfortable. It was so out of character Stiles was even more nervous than when he actually first walked into Beatrice’s Diner.

            “Yes,” he said sitting down, “You must be Laura and you are Cora?”

            They both grinned and nodded at the same time. Stiles’ eye twitched and he felt himself lean away.

            “How many hours did you practice that before you perfected it,” he asked not thinking. Derek covered his face. They both cackled manically.

            “I like him,” Cora said leaning over her hair curling across the table top. Laura placed a hand on her sisters shoulder.

            “Please, Cora, Derek gets possessive over his partners,” Laura said in a stage whisper. Stiles needed to run away really fast. He must have made some movement towards getting away because Derek had wrapped a large hand around his wrist shackling him to the uncomfortable situation.

            “Isn’t he cute like a trapped rabbit,” Laura said with a snide grin.

            “Hey! Fuck you, if you didn’t want me to run you would have learned how to be less Shining twins and more Thelma and Louis,” Stiles spat. There was a thunk as Derek laid his head against the table. Bernice came by took one look at Stiles and Derek and wrote down their orders.

            “The fuck you want,” she asked snapping her gum.

            “Chicken Ceaser Salad for the both of us,” Cora said handing over their menus. Bernice nodded and walked away.

            “Bitch didn’t ask for drinks,” Cora muttered darkly.

            “Diet Coke,” Derek and Stiles answered in sync.

            “What,” Laura asked.

            “She got you diet coke. It’s what she gives to everyone who orders just salad,” Stiles explained.

            “I like her,” Laura stated with a nod.

            “Me too,” Cora seconded.

            “I like you too,” Laura said. Cora nodded tersely in agreement. Stiles eye might have started twitching again.

            “Oh, goodie. You guys are just going to be buckets fun,” he said sourly. Derek rolled his head to look at Stiles.

            “Yep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahahahahaha editing is for chumps. It's going to be a bad fucking week for me and the characters.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

Stiles waltzed into Derek’s flat after seeing Boyd behind the counter. He didn’t actually know his schedule but went every day and if Boyd was there he went up to go have hot monkey sex with his boyfriend. All fun all around, the store always mysteriously had more customers when Boyd or Derek were at the counter than Stiles. It was no skin off his bones to have a day off.

            Derek froze like a deer in headlights when Stiles saw him. He had a large brush sticking out of his mouth and charcoal canvas with…Stiles on it. Stiles cocked his head and moved around Derek to get a closer look. The canvas was six by four approximately, and Stiles was laid across it sleeping peacefully.

            “Wow,” he sighed. His bag made a loud obtrusive thump when it hit the floor. Everything was perfect down to his moles and that weird scar thingy on his back when he fell off the roof.

            “Thought you were working today,” Derek mumbled self-consciously.

            “Do you have others?”

            “No. I sold all the fox paintings overseas; this is the only one that I haven’t burned.” Derek backed up slowly. Stiles caught his arm without looking away.

            “You drew me as a fox, Mr. Wolf.” Stiles smiled. Derek shrugged forcing Stiles away from the painting. He pulled Derek toward him leaning in close so his lips were in his ear.

            “I’ll reward you greatly,” Stiles said nipping at the lobe of his ear, “If you promise not to burn this one.”

            Derek nodded and dragged Stiles towards bed.

*

            “Son,” the Sheriff said awkwardly. Stiles blinked up from his book and set it aside gearing up for the awkward. He needed to embrace it.

            “You’re leaving in a couple of days and well, I, not that any of this is bad, but,” the Sheriff stumbled.

            “Me and Derek are going long distance, yeah,” Stiles answered saving his father from any further pain.

            “Oh. Good luck,” the Sheriff said before walking out the door. Stiles swore to god that the man spent more time out of the house having sex than he did.

*

            Derek was antsy behind the counter. Stiles hadn’t called in the last three days for their nightly Skype calls. Derek knew Stiles had graduated (he couldn’t make the ceremony because _Boyd_ went and he was left to watch the shop) but Stiles hadn’t given him a final say in what his plans were, just a malicious grin and a wave before he cut out of their Skype session. Derek sighed ripping up the sketch he had been working on to relieve the tension in his shoulders. He ordinarily would be working out but he had a commission for a painting due in a week and he was about a month behind.

            There was the sharp sound of the bell in the shop. Derek stared angrily at the wall for five minutes before deciding to walk down the stairs to the desk. He had taken the first step out side of the small loft when he was tackled breatheless onto his back.

            “You smell like sweat and paint and I would blow you right now if my dad wasn’t waiting for us outside,” Stiles said nuzzling in closer to Derek.

            “Hi,” Derek wheezed staring up at the ceiling and collecting his wits. Stiles pulled up enough so his arms caged in Derek’s face.

            “You look like you’ve gotten stupider since I’ve left,” Stiles said smirking at Derek’s very confused expression. Derek glared.

            “At least I haven’t gotten fat.”

            Stiles gaped appalled. Derek leaned up to kiss him.

            “Good to see you, babe.”

            “Nice to know since I’m here to stay,” Stiles murmured against his lips.

            “I certainly hope so, no one but me will want you now fatty,” Derek said rubbing his scruff against Stiles’ neck getting him to laugh.

            “You ass.”

            “Yep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might go back and fix most of this because it's bothering me. But I have to finish my Birdcage AU first.


End file.
